


chateau (feel alright)

by orphan_account



Category: SMPLive (Video Blogging RPF), SootHouse (Video Blogging RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 11:14:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20308558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “hello, sweetheart,” wilbur affectionately introduces. he leans on his elbow, grinning lopsidedly at schlatt grumbling, his face pressed into the pillow. flustering. “what? going to cry? gonna piss your pants?”“oh, my god, shut up,” hisses schlatt. he falls all ways, limbs ragdolling to try to hit wilbur — misses the first time, catches the british man’s shoulder with a pillow the second time as he sloppily presses his lips against his and they both sink.





	chateau (feel alright)

**Author's Note:**

> all persons depicted are over 18

wilbur doesn’t think he’s conscious, for the sight that beholds him, but he’s not about to take it back. 

his sheets are beige, same as the walls — honeyed streaks of sunlight filters through the shutters, catches the shine of the one million subscriber plaque that he cried over seeing, catches the shoulder of schlatt sleeping next to him. the mise en scene is unlike this imagery, so ordinary yet so new and weird and something (somebody) wilbur is not used to having in his life.

he’s really not sure how to deal with it, in all honesty. wilbur feels like a (love)sick fool, fevering with blush and with an unusual brevity that he’s not sure betters him, but it feels good.

“hello, sweetheart,” wilbur affectionately introduces. he leans on his elbow, grinning lopsidedly at schlatt grumbling, his face pressed into the pillow. flustering. “what? going to cry? gonna piss your pants?”

“oh, my god, **shut up**,” hisses schlatt. he falls all ways, limbs ragdolling to try to hit wilbur — misses the first time, catches the british man’s shoulder with a pillow the second time as he sloppily presses his lips against his and they both sink. 

schlatt’s mouth is open as wilbur cradles him, 

“fuckin’ — gonna break your —_ mmh_, gonna strangle you,” 

kissing where his lips curve up and his nose and his eyelids and just over schlatt’s ears, listening to him whine at this exploitative double - crossing, 

“did you sleep well? i hope you had _nightmares_.” 

they are in love. wilbur distantly feels the other’s arms wrap around his shoulders. he smiles as his lids fall shut, all drowsy and lovesick. the image of schlatt’s hand sliding into his is inappropriately satisfying. “better with _you_ here, hm?”

he hears schlatt’s non - reply, nestling into him. the silence is almost purring. wilbur counts his blessings. 

one, (in the ridges of schlatt’s hips, flowering purplish from the prodigal question of nature versus nurture,) two, (in the sunlight catching schlatt’s eyes, a golden - brown canvas like the topaz’s sheen,) three, (that he is here, right now, in wilbur’s arms, miles and miles from the lonely discord calls populated by _wish you were here_ messages and interactions closer than friends but not ever lovers.) they are not lovers but something itches at wilbur’s heart.

“wanna stay like this,” mumbles schlatt, after a long while. "don't ever want you to leave. i feel almost selfish, 'm sorry." 

“huh,” breezes back wilbur, awoken from his thoughts._ huh,_ as he moves down and presses his lips to schlatt’s neck, breathes in and hears schlatt sigh with his not - there voice, one not - here leg wrapping around wilbur’s bare waist to pull him closer, indulging in this overwhelmingly good closeness. he moves up again to kiss schlatt again, eyes opening and closing wretchedly. they’re messy, intertwined.

schlatt emits something of a squeak from the back of his mouth, (oh, how wilbur shouldn’t know how his cheeks hollow out for him.) embarrassed, he recedes into himself. “i really like when you do that.”

“oh? you wanted to strangle me seconds ago, i might recall.”

“you woke me up, baby.”

at that, wilbur’s hands reach to thumb at schlatt’s inner thighs. pressing. bruising. “that’s my line, baby.”

he hears schlatt sigh. “say that again.”

“baby boy, i thought you had manners.”

a ragged groan shoots through the boy under him, and schlatt pulls wilbur back under again.

**Author's Note:**

> a little writing exercise framed by the emptiness of this tag, leave feedback if you'd want more xo


End file.
